You!?.*

WanT
        o         P
                   a   My
                   i                                          Well two bad,
                   n   Portrait                         I'm not real,
                   t                                           I am a Chemical
                                                        ­                    a
                                           ­                                 o        Fee(l) you seem
                                                            ­                t         To like to Get
                                                             ­               i                           o  
                                                                ­            c                          ThoUght
                  ­                                                                 ­                            p
im nobody who is you im a piece of glass in the ocean an unexpected regret you didnt want but now you have im the kind of thing you get in a goodie bag from a party you didnt want to go to but you still did an embodiment of every reason you doubt yourself on a daily basses im the one whom sits behind the screen not watching but watchin you thats the scary part of me that you arent quite ready to leave because who will watch you if im gone

If you come home,
You'll find me far from sleep,
Staring out the window counting sheep.

Breath stilled from stalking memories,
All of the joyous laughter we once held dear,
Now, to me, your ghost is near.

Yet, still,
If you choose to come home,
Do not wake me, let me rise from bed,
Realizing I no longer am alone.

Nobody lives in negative infinity,
Life is not linear,
We live, grow, and learn,
In parabolas.

One U shaped graph,
That goes down,
But comes back up,
Even when you hit the A.O.S.

Today,
I talked to you.
For the first time in what seems,
To be forever.
You were pretty as always,
Quiet as always. . .

"I hurt you and I can see that,"
How did you not see it before.
I can't stop myself,
From writing,
"She broke my heart,"
All over my face.

But,
At least you know what you did to me.
I'll heal eventaully,
Baby steps.

That’s a reminder,
Of who I used to be.
Scars on my body,
Tell me to save my words.

“You’re too young and brash.”

It’s that big mouth of mine,
That gets me hurt.
I don’t think people,
Can take the truth today.

“You’re a bad man, you can’t save yourself.”

I chose silence,
In spite of the aggressor inside of me.
There’s nothing peaceful,
About the pacification of a fighter.

In darkness he rode to the castle gate,
With armor of steel and cloak of night,
Out pacing the daylight's flight.

He stormed through the castle door,
To slay the king,
Leaving the little prince in a pool of ****** dread.

Years pass, but in the still of night,
The prince chases after his father's killer,
Vengeance in his sight.

The rouge rode swiftly as the wind,
But the prince was nimble, catching him,
Then in his father's name, he did that man in.

Bend like bamboo,
Brittle people break.

Resist yet be resilient,
Persevere, yet,

With purpose.

Oftentimes,
A poet doesn't lift their pen daily,
It's better to write nothing,
Than force something out.

As well for the fact,
Some things are best left unsaid,
This world is a rocky streambed.

What's better than a summer day?
Not a whole lot,
But there are a few things.
There's love for one,
After all, any day with love makes summer look glum.
Some argue for money,
But I just don't know,
Money doesn't feed my soul.
Family is up there,
But the sun can set even on that,
Guess a legacy isn't as immortal as they say.

I can't do horror movies,
But I can if you hold my hand.
Every bad thing gets better,
When we do it together.
So let's do more,
Love is our open door.

Have you ever seen,
White light shine,
Through black diamonds?
Seen the reflection of moonlight,
Off of gold?
Do you walk around parties,
In black suits and dress attire.
How great it feels,
To keep time on gold watches.
Black diamonds,
Silver seas.
I'd give you riches,
If you'd love me.

The Black Knight of the Franks,
He feared no thing,
Except for the hand of God.

With his sword and cross,
He rode triumphant,
Through out the Holy Land.

But once he crossed a monk of opposing faith,
But spared his life,
So his story was erased from history.

It frustrates me that I’m sitting here,
Staring at a blank page.
For I feel so much.
And I have so much to write,
On this empty page.
I have seen enough to write an endless novel.
So why is my page empty?
Not full of wooded trails.
Or life's many tales.
Not even the sympathies,
Of my many brothers,
And many sisters.
My page is empty,
Alas, the poet’s dying shame.

Those who are born in night,
Fear the sun.
Those who are born in light,
Fear the sin.
Though, I fear them both,
For I was born amongst the twilight.

Another night I'm wasting,
According to the billionaire news letter,
Bowling with CL and JR.
A sleek new bowler's cap,
A broken in pair of bowling shoes,
I found while thrifting.
JR made a joke,
"They look like Al Capone's lost shoes."
And I guess they do,
So whether I dress like an English bartender,
Or an Italian mob boss.
That's up to you to judge,
Because I'm wearing my new bowler's cap,
My all American pool shirt,
And Al Capone's lost shoes.

I've learned that when times are hard,
The healthiest thing to do,
Is to cut yourself off from everyone,
Until your very last bond fades away.
But that's an example of how,
Not everything we learn is true,
Or at least should be followed,
As if it were a brand new rule.

You're my fault,
The product of my imagination,
Everything in life I wanted,
Everyone I wanted to live in stagnation,
I'd rather live in my anger,
Then let it live in me,
And if the meds aren't in my head,
It's all the broken images of what I wanted life to be.

Something needs to be said,
For this suspicion I have in my head,
Something here is amiss.

I don't believe we're still fighting,
For the same battle I inspired,
I don't believe that your mascot is real,
For you treat them like an effigy.

I walked in the evening,
Throughout the widow's woods.
Following the rabbling brooks,
Down to the lonesome cliff spire.
On the edge I spied a man,
A ruffled suit, head in his hands.
Slowly, I approached him,
And sat by his sorrow.
'For what are you here sir,
For why have you come to shed tears over the edge,
Straight to the rocky jaws of the gorge's floor?'
He raised his head from it's rest,
Turned it to look at I.
'My friend I have come for death,
His sweet relief and eternal rest.'
Widened did my eyes,
'But friend, it is not your time,
I see a pool of youth still in this eye which you gaze with.'
He sighed, looked back to the edge,
'Your eyes lie to you my friend,
My years of youth are gone,
But before I go take this letter,
I want not my last thoughts to go o'er these falls.'
So I did, then once it laid safe in my hands, I left,
And so did the man,
But left not to his home,
But to the end.

'Ciao'
'Salve!'
'Un caffe con latte per favore.'
'Un cornetto?'
'No, un caffe con latte.'
'Ah, un gelato!'
'No! Un caffe con latte!'
'Latte con zuchero?'
'Why you idiot! I'm asking for a coffee!'
'Scusa?'
'...'

Don't cage me,
Don't chain me,
Don't try and change me,
I am the river,
I am free.

So you can't control me,
You can know me,
But you'll never own me.

Here comes the camera girl,
Clumsy American beauty!
With a French hat placed upon her head lazily,
And her camera hanging from her neck.
Looking around the streets,
Photographing Paris, a way to live through scenes.

But she'll never be happy,
Just watching the people,
Who dance by the Eiffel Tower.
No, she must dance!
But alas, she has no man with which to dance,
How sad.

Blank canvas,
Is still creative.
Because the fact is,
You can only paint an original blank painting,
Once.

Edward Carnegie was once a normal man,
Steel monopolist extraordinaire.
Till a fateful dip in rail stock,
Lead to his discovery of time travel.
Confused, he landed just a few years from the modern day,
Where he was arrested by the Time Police.
"Edward, we'll set you free,
If you defeat public time enemy,
The Alien."
So off went Carnegie to the modern day,
To face off against fellow PTE.
But what was revealed,
Shocked even the Time Police.
His business partner, Henry Frick,
Was the real villain all along.
"Buckle up, we're going back in time!"
Back to the time of steel money,
Frick had almost bested Carnegie.
"The company is mine Edward, stand down!"
Though undenounced to Henry,
His advisory had pumped his veins full,
Of the Blood Of Steel.

Sometimes I tend to be a catalyst,
Carrying things to light,
Rooting them deep where they belong.

Nothing bad,
It's what I do,
I'm proud to ferry,
The things they carry.

The first time around,
We didn't plan,
We talked in tomorrows,
Because we knew it would end.

Yet on our second go,
We planned it all out,
Now we talk in years,
Because I only have to wait seven more,
Before I can put a ring on your pretty finger,
Though for now that's fantasy.

We're two different people,
But in similar ways.

We both like chewing gum,
A pack in our pocket at all times.
But mine's watermelon,
Yours is nicotine.

Wake up in the morning,
Grab my cap, tie my shoes,
Get in the car, can't wait to see you.
<3
Get dropped off,
Walk into the school,
Wait in the cafeteria for you!
<3<3
Wish you didn't forget your hoodie,
Grab mine, I don't need it,
Get some breakfast and go, I love you so.
<3<3<3

Soft snow falling,
Kissing the white tops of the trees.
It'll be a white Christmas this year,
First one my baby cousin will ever see.
His sleepy eyes and rosy nose,
Does he know that his joy will simply grow,
When Saint Nickolas completes his flight?
No I doubt he'd know that tonight is the night,
Of the birth of Jesus Christ.

No, but he will learn,
All in time as bed hours turn.
A yawn catches me drifting off,
As I sip my spiced cider and listen to the Christian hymns.
Staring into the golden lights of Grandmother's "Angel Tree,"
I often wonder, did baby Jesus know, he was sent by God,
To save our souls?
Or did he find his light along the way?

I'd ask the pastor,
But tonight the church is quiet.
Waiting for Christmas Mass tomorrow,
While young children are tucked into bed,
Drifting dreams of presents fighting the will to wait up for Saint Nick.

And as the candles fade,
I figure it is my time as well.
To turn to bed,
And await the sleigh of Santa Claus.
This Christmas though,
He will not be able to bring me what I want.
Unless, I could catch a ride,
On his magic flight.
Visit the ocean,
And sing "White Christmas," with you one more time.

But matter not what I long for,
I will slip away to sleep eventually.
'Merry Christmas to all,
And to all, a good night.'

I signed up for Duolingo again,
So when I grow old,
And I am weary of this mortal country,
I may take my aching bones,
To old Italy.
Where I will have coffee,
And read paper news,
That way the old game can't bother me.

Sometimes it's the irony,
Of a garage band,
Full of classical instruments.

Such beautiful music,
Played in such an informal way.

But you'll still replay the tape,
Whether or not you like rock,
Because your lover,
Is first chair violin.

You, you're my one and only,
Without you I'd be a little lonely.
Nope I lied,
If I were to lose you,
I'd lose myself and they'd have to gather tools to fix my heart.
And while the ocean is wide,
I need you to be my bright side.
In fact it's starting to seem that you're the ink in my pen,
Your tears of sadness and joy.
Staring into your eyes,
I freeze like a toy.
I'm just a boy,
And you're my classroom crush.

A fateful night,
I was restless,
Sleep fleeting my young eyes.
So I rose from bed,
And to my desk I sat.
My pen curled in my fingers,
I wrote.
I wrote of a girl,
Made of spare paper,
And discarded ink.
But never did I guess,
My writing would come true.
Yet come next morning before me lay,
A paper girl with inky eyes.

If you'll come with me,
I can bring you to the sea,
Show you the waves as they dance to the sand,
Wander through the dunes,
Winding like the winds in beach birch branches,
We can live like they do on TV,
Swear our hearts to each other,
Like I got down on my one knee.

Almost to 50,
Just about half-way more.
I need a mass of poets,
Poets galore.
So to the new poets who've just joined,
We need your help,
Have you considered 300?

No bed is mine,
If I lay not with her.
There is no home for me,
If I cannot hold her, gazing into the sea.
I am citizen to no country,
Unless it is the territory of her lips.

I'm a big target,
I don't fit the mold.

Does the fact I'm self contempt,
Scare you and your self admired stature?

Just because you will give confidence for popularity,
Doesn't mean I have to.

So move on,
I won't grieve myself due to you.

I heard the worst cover of Radiohead,
Some man was singing Creep,
But with a polka swing.

He knew what he was doing,
The crowd wasn't too happy,
Yet, each word he sang,
Came with more pain,
Than the original.

It's too much to take,

I rush down the stairs,
I run away,
I always run away.

But how can I fight,
Something I don't know,
But how can I fix,
Something when I don't know what broke.

This is not complaining,
This is begging,
This is begging you to tell me,
This is apologizing for not knowing.

Je suis dans amour.
Mon amoureuse est brillant,
C’est juste nous.
Tout ce que je sais c’est elle.
C’est gentil,
Tu m’as apporté des fleurs!
J’ai juré,
Mais j’ai glissé,
Maintenant je tombe à nouveau.
Je suis amoureux.

I went off to the capital,
For a weekend with friends.
My mother told me,
"Take lots of pictures!"

Well mother, I'm afraid,
My camera can only capture so much.
Because there was no way for me,
To photograph everything.
No, I do not mean stone statues and monuments,
I'm talking about feeling.
A piece of film can't show,
Every shining memory of everything you did.
Midnight conversations,
Dinner debates,
Writing in graveyards,
Buying hats.

Often times those of us that disturb peace,
Are making up for the lack of our own.

I used to look upon the scarred and hurt,
With disgust.
The world had taught me,
There was no place for those who can't defend themselves.

You need no excuse to stand and fight,
Let us defend the scared,

To make up for every little sin.

In the dark I find myself empty,
Devoid of thought.

Devoid of feeling,
Reaching for something,
Grasping for anything.

Devoid of peace,
Hoping this feeling will pass on from me.

I didn't make the cut again,
I guess that makes sense.
I don't look like the characters from the original film,
I'm not blond a skinny like the prince,
I'm not built and burly like the craftsman.
I'm not pudgy like the shopkeeper,
Nor am I silent like the king

But I can act,
I know I can.
Because everyday I act happy,
Wake up and do it again.
I act confident when I'm up on stage,
But maybe they couldn't see it,
After all, I hide it so well.

Did they call for you,
When you were low,
When you knew the dirt of ground?

No?
Then don't you dare answer in your house of gold,
They will only come to burn it down.